


Sick With the Flu

by bovaria



Series: Dean Drabbles [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 04:35:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5814412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bovaria/pseuds/bovaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader hides that she's sick, Dean takes care of her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick With the Flu

You sniffled, holding your nose closed as a sneeze threatened to reveal your hideout spot. You were currently hunting down a rougaru with the Winchesters and the last thing you needed was a monster angry at you after you had so carelessly made a noise. The urge to sneeze passed and soon, you were hearing loud voices come from the adjacent room. You dashed over to it, only to witness Sam setting the monster on fire. It screeched and you slumped down on the closest chair, careful to conceal from Dean how truly sick you felt.

Cold sweat ran down the nape of your neck and you shivered despite it being relatively warm around you. Your head was pounding and you were pretty sure that you had the flu. Yet, you had fought with Dean over going on this hunt when he thought you weren’t ready and showcasing weakness was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Okay, it’s done,” he approached you, kneeling down to look at you with concern. “Everything alright, Y/N?”

You nodded your head, giving him a reassuring smile. “Everything’s dandy. Come on.”

Without another word, Dean and Sam followed you out of the house, climbing into the Impala and driving back to the bunker. It was quite hard to conceal your coughs in the enclosed space and you excused your lack of talking and dull disposition to the fact that the hunt had been pretty extensive. Dean glanced at you in concern, but said nothing, believing you.

A flutter of wings was suddenly heard and Sam jumped as Cas sat next to him.

Dean glanced at the rearview mirror, eyebrows shooting up on his forehead. “Hey, Cas, buddy.”

“Y/N,” Cas ignored Dean and his blue eyes bored into the side of your face. “Were you on the hunt with Dean and Sam?”

“Yeah, she was with us,” Sam answered for you. “Why?”

“She is quite sick,” Cas narrowed his eyes at you and you wanted to smack him for being so blatant. “Her temperature is quite high and she is sweating. I think she has what you humans call the ‘flu.’”

“Are you serious? Is he right?” Dean asked, eyes wide as he questioned you.

“Nah, it’s not that bad,” you waved him away with a smile.

“Y/N, your heartbeat has increased,” Cas continued. “Which could only mean you are nervous at the thought of Dean finding out that you were sick while on this hunt. Please do not endanger yourself, Dean has expressed to me how much it would hurt him if something happened to you.”

“Thank you, Cas!” Dean exclaimed. “That’s it, we’re stopping at a motel.”

“No, let’s just get to the bunker,” you whined.

Dean shook his head and after making a quick stop at a pharmacy, he stocked up on all kinds of medicines and remedies, ready to nurse you back to health. You grumbled all the way to the motel, refusing in letting Dean help you out of the car and into the room.

Sam decided to take another bedroom and soon, you had been left alone with just Dean. He brought a pair of shorts and one of his baggy t-shirts, handing them to you. His eyes widened in question and you huffed indignantly. Just because you were sick with flu didn’t mean that you were entirely useless. He sat at the foot of the bed and watched you change, quite entertained by the permanent scowl you were wearing.

“Come on, now, I’m going to warm up some soup,” he smiled softly as he brought the covers up to your chin after you had gotten into bed. “And then you can take the nasty medicine I bought and—”

“Dean, stop,” you whined.

“Honey, you have taken care of me so much, let me do something for you,” he kissed your forehead, quickly pulling away with a chuckle when you made to swat him. “Now, wait a bit for me to finish warming up your food in the microwave.”

He came back stirring a cup of noodle soup he had bought from the gas station and smiled widely as he sat next to you on the bed. Blowing at the steaming liquid, he cringed slightly.

“What?” you asked.

“It’s too hot, I don’t want to give it to you just yet,” he admitted.

“Oh, God, Dean,” you rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “I’ll be fine. Seriously, you being this careful is freaking me out.”

“Hey, I’m trying my best here,” he said, glowering.

“That’s better,” you giggled at his sudden outburst, to which he rolled his eyes in response.

Despite you not wanting him to, Dean fed you the entire cup of soup and soon you were laying back with a tummy full of warm soup. Dean handed you a tall glass of water and two blue pills, explaining that they were what the pharmacist had picked after Dean had explained your symptoms to her.

“Thank you,” you said, before gulping down the medicine.

“No problem, sweetheart,” he gave you one last smile before disappearing into the bathroom. You rested your head on the bed’s headboard and closed your eyes, drifting off for a few minutes. Shuffling about the room woke you up and your eyes met Dean’s. He put a finger up to his lips, quickly apologizing for making so much noise, to which you softly grinned in response.

Without another word, Dean climbed into bed with you, his arms surrounding your frame and warming you right up despite your fever. The room was too cold and he was just the right temperature. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and you immediately felt a little better, knowing he’d be there to take care of you when you’d wake up.


End file.
